


A Scottish Noel

by rotrude



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Holidays, M/M, Rom-com, Romance, Scotland, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-09-27 05:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17155991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/pseuds/rotrude
Summary: Merlin, Arthur and their friends are due to spend the Christmas Holidays in Scotland. There's only one problem with that lovely prospect. Someone mismanaged their booking and now Merlin and Arthur have to share a room, with all that entails.





	A Scottish Noel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clea2011](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clea2011/gifts).



> Beta'd at Christmas time by two lovely ~~elfs~~ people, the great and incomparable RocknVaughn and Dutch_Girl_Jessie

The First Noel wafted across the room, the clear voice of a choir boy borne on the air like so many seasonal bells. A pile of jumpers lay on the bed, stacked haphazardly and with no attention to the dangers of creasing. They were all, to the last one, classic ugly Christmas jumpers with Fair Isle themes, snowflakes and a varied scattering of reindeer. Socks sharing similar graphics pooled together in the corner. They weren't paired, but there ought at least to be an equal number of them. There were only two pairs of jeans but they seemed to be enough to last him the four days of the prospected holiday.

Tapping his chin, Merlin asked himself. “What else?”

His mobile chirped and Merlin and read the incoming message. It was from Arthur. It was a reminder though rather abrupt. It said, “Underwear, Wallet, Cat.”

The underwear Merlin had clean forgotten, but then again he'd thought of the essentials first. Like a warm scarf and gloves. Merlin's fingers always got cold, even in summer, so he had had the foresight to pack some items that would help counter that.

Next, Merlin patted his jeans pockets and found his wallet. Pulling it out, he checked its contents. There were a couple of twenty notes and a crumpled fifty he'd been saving for the past two months. Luckily, he had already paid for his holiday quota and he didn't think there'd be many extra expenses. The nature of the holiday itself prevented that and he could always excuse himself from the more expensive outings. 

Aithusa came meowing in as if to remind him of her presence. “Yes, I know,” Merlin told her, though he wasn't sure how much the cat actually understood. “I've got to take care of you.”

When Merlin bent down, Aithusa climbed his legs, claws out, wanting to be picked up. Merlin raked her up in his arms, walked out of his flat and buzzed his neighbour. Old Mrs Simmons peeked from behind the half closed door. (She had a fear of robbers and burglars.) “Ah, it's you,” she said when she saw him. “With your cat.”

“Yes, Mrs Simmons.” Merlin decided directness was the better part of valour. “I was wondering if you could keep Aithusa for a few days.”

Mrs Simmons looked at him with suspicion in her eyes. “You know my husband hates you.”

“Yes, well. My cat needs you.” Mr Simmons' hatred was about the reverse parking incident during which Merlin had felled a young sapling that belonged to all owners and renters in the building, but that Simmons had looked after from the moment it had been planted. But Merlin knew that Mrs Simmons loved cats. He'd seen her feed the ferals that abounded in the neighbourhood. “See, I'm going on holiday for Christmas.” He smiled and Aithusa meowed loudly, as if she was commenting on what was being said. “It's just a few days, but Aithusa needs looking after.”

“You could have thought about that before.” Mrs Simmons's mouth thinned with displeasure. “The kitty is a dear, but Mr Simmons won't have it.”

Merlin knew Mrs Simmons was right. He should have thought about this before, but he'd been so busy with work he'd had not had time to ask anyone around. His only friends were coming with him and he couldn't trust acquaintances. “Please, in the spirit of Christmas.”

Merlin tried to pull his best friendly persuasive face. He told himself he looked like a cherub and that he must be irresistible, but his charms didn't work on Mrs Simmons.

“I'm sorry,” Mrs Simmons said, over the complaints of Old Mr Simmons coming from inside. “But my husband is prickly and the last thing I want is having him angry over the holidays.” She patted Aithusa's head. “I can't help you.”

To make sure Merlin wouldn't insist, Mrs Simmons slammed the door in his face. Aithusa mewled.

Merlin had just managed to comfort her and bring her back inside his flat, when somebody blared the horn twice outside. Merlin put Aithusa down and lifted the window sash. Sticking his head out, he saw a mini van parked outside. It was blue with rainbow stripes along the rear side. At the wheel sat Gwen with Morgana next to her. He couldn't see who was in the back but since Arthur, Elena and Leon had said they would come he thought it must be them in the shadows.

Knowing he had managed to cut it late, Merlin held his hand up and gave a crooked smile. If they found out he hadn't finished packing yet, they would be on him like murder of crows. So Merlin stashed all the items spread on the bed inside his large gym bag and zipped up. His friends blared the horn again. Yes, he had got the message, but he had a cat to catch. So he chased a yowling Aithusa down the length of his flat. Somehow she had put it in her head this was some kind of game he had devised for her entertainment. All right, he'd spoiled her, but for some reason the little princess seemed to think everything revolved around her. Finally he convinced her to get her into her carrier by way of a few strategically placed treats.

Bag slung over his shoulder, cat carrier in one hand and cat provisions held in the other, he clambered down the stairs. He was nearly out of the building when a thought occurred to him. Had his hands been free, he'd have slapped his forehead with his palm. As it was, he rushed all the way back upstairs, put the carrier with a complaining Aithusa down, and ran into his bedroom, where Away in a Manger was still playing.

He shut off the docking station and pocketed the USB drive. Once again encumbered with all the items he'd first borne down, he started his descent again.

When he got to the mini van, Gwen jumped out of the driving seat and hugged him tight. Merlin was carrying too many items to coordinate a hug, so he dropped the bag with Aithusa's provisions, (not the carrier) . He would never do that to Aithusa. 

Before he could pick it back up, Arthur had come out and lifted it and Merlin's bag as though it was a feather. “Gwen should have known you have no coordination, Merlin,” Arthur said, his face soft as though he had meant no slight by his words. If anything, his eyes danced with merriment, as though he found the whole situation rather funny and was proud of his wit. “I'll put these in the back.”

Merlin hadn't even managed to greet Arthur beyond a few guttural sounds –Gwen had been hugging the living daylights out of him--, when Aithusa made a few mewling protests. 

It was then that Arthur clocked the carrier. “You're not bringing Aithusa!”

“Mrs Simmons said she couldn't look after her,” Merlin said, attempting not to sound sheepish, though he felt so. “So I took her with me.”

“Oh, no.” Arthur shook his head from side to side. “She's not coming with.”

“Who should I give her to?” Merlin didn't trust anyone that much. 

“You work at a big cat sanctuary, Merlin.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “There must be someone.”

“Not at such short notice.” Merlin should have asked Freya first. Or Sefa. But they had sounded so enthusiastic about their holidays and they hadn't entailed felines of any species. He'd been so sure about Mrs Simmons. “Plus, it's just a small cat, nobody's allergic and she's perfectly litter trained.”

“But she'll meow!” Arthur said, as if that was the end of the world.

Gwen interfered. “I'm fine with Aithusa tagging along and so is Morgana.”

“Because you didn't drive with her all the way to the Cotswold.” Arthur turned to her. “She complained vocally all the time.”

Merlin snorted. “Are you talking about the time we went birdwatching?”

“Yes!” Arthur's eyes widened with vehemence. “She scared all the birds away.”

“That's because of her instincts.” Cats were predators, that was all. “You didn't even like birdwatching. I don't even know why we went!”

Arthur crossed his arms mulishly and looked away. 

Given that they were hesitating and not getting into the van, the others asked what was holding them up. Once Gwen had explained to the others, Morgana snorted while Leon seemed perplexed. Elena hopped out of the van, knelt down, and ran her fingers down the flap, squealing as Aithusa leapt at her hand, trying to catch her hand. 

They put the question to the vote. Only Arthur voted against Aithusa coming. The others said they were glad she was tagging along. Elena expounded on her love of cats.

So they all took their places in the van with Gwen at the wheel. (Because of them all she was the calmest person and didn't swear at the Sat Nav when it sent them to a dead end.) As always, Merlin sat next to Arthur with Aithusa's carrier between his feet. At first Arthur was prickly because Aithusa did indeed make some noise, her voice echoing inside the car. But then Elena put some music on. Since she shared Merlin's tastes in music, she had the Michael Bublé (whom Arthur hated, thinking him smarmy) CD on, followed by the Vienna Choir Boys. 

Gwen, who could sing very well, joined along, uniting her voice to the equally fervent but surely less suave ones of Elena and Merlin. Since fair was fair, they also had classical music for Leon and old school rock for Arthur. 

With Merlin and Elena needing the loo with a certain frequency, they stopped at service stations often. So, to appease the others, they bought a rich variety of junk food that they distributed around. Morgana was vegan and very serious about it, so she declined partaking in the bounty. Leon was very polite and accepted two snacks. Arthur, who usually ate his weight in food, was apparently on a diet. Not that he would admit it, but nothing would explain his turning down his favourites.

Despite these stops, before long they were well on the A1, heading north at speed, looking forward to to their holiday.

**** 

The road climbed and swerved, with tall conifers growing on either side of it, their branches brought low by unmelted snow. The mountain path was dark with the early winter sunset, sleet wetting the windscreen despite the wiper's work. The headlights, though, shone ahead, showing glimpses of not so distant plateaus, their domed summits hulking in the background, free-standing rock outcrops that looked like jagged teeth and steep cliffs overlooking deep chasms.

Prudently, Leon, who had swapped places with Gwen at the wheel, proceeded cautiously, following the curves of the road at a pace that allowed him to negotiate the ice that adhered to the paved surface. He had also sworn he didn't want to run any fauna over and, given the road signs, that seemed like a very real possibility.

The ski lodge looked like a Swiss chalet, with a sloping roof and wooden shutters, and with snow sitting on sills and falling off eaves. It sat on a knoll surrounded by pine and thrust against a backdrop of mountains and crags. A big snowman had been constructed to the side of the building.

On the door hung a big colourful wreath decorated with red ribbons and dotted with plastic red berries. Red festoons circled the gables in stripes of soft velvety material. 

Heaving their bags, they all poured into the hall. The area was even more heavily decorated than the front of the building had been. Even Merlin, who was lavish with such things, thought it was overkill. A life-size felt reindeer complete with a festive saddle and horns stood to the side of the fireplace. Stockings lined the rim of the mantelpiece, each of a different colour, and a fire danced merrily behind the grate. Over the armchairs festive throws were spread; they came in various shades of burgundy and green, with Christmassy decorations all over.

Merlin admired the set up, which, after hours spent in the cramped van, cheered him up no end. Even Aithusa seemed to like it, for she chirped happily. Or she was probably dreaming of climbing the tree in the corner and knocking off all the dangling baubles. Yes, well, Merlin had better only free her from her carrier once he was in his room.

Meanwhile, Arthur and Morgana fought their way to the reception counter in a bid to be the first to check in for them all. Merlin knew because they had done this before, and when he'd seen them speed up he'd guessed what they were up to.

By way of digging her heels into Arthur's shoe, Morgana got there first. With glee she rang the bell and a handsome man with hair worthy of a L' Oreal ad appeared. His name tag, pinned right above his right pectoral muscle advertised the fact he was called Gwaine. Gwaine smiled a crooked, sexy smile at Morgana and said, “What can I do for you, my beautiful lady?”

You had to give it to Morgana, in spite of Gwaine's charms, she didn't blush or simper. Instead she arched an eyebrow, gave Gwaine a haughty once over, and said, “There should be a reservation in my name, Morgana Pendragon.”

With a few taps of the keyboard, Gwaine checked his computer. “Yes, I see, you have three rooms booked, a triple, a double, and a non-smoking single.”

“No there must be a mistake.” Arthur elbowed his way to the counter, displacing Morgana. “We need a triple, and three singles.”

Gwaine looked again at his computer screen. “Your name is Pendragon?” He watched Arthur nod. “Then this is it. You have reserved a triple, a double, and a single non-smoking room.”

“The non-smoking room is mine.” Leon held up a hand. When Gwaine tilted his head, Leon added, “I've asthma. I can't stay in a room people smoked in before.”

“Yes, well, okay,” Arthur said, eyebrows meeting just a little south of his hairline. “You just need to swap the double for two singles.”

Gwaine tutted. “Afraid I can't do that.” He indicated the lobby's decorations. “We're booked to the gills.”

“I clearly remember telling Morgana to get a triple, and three singles.” Arthur put his hands on his hips and turned to glare at his sister.

“And I clearly remember, _brother dear_ ,” Morgana hissed, her hackles raised like a tomcat, engaged in a fight, “booking exactly one triple and three singles.”

“Perhaps we can mediate,” Gwen said. 

“Oh no, we can't,” Arthur said, colour heightening in his cheeks. He was working himself to a right tizzy. “I gave Morgana one simple task.”

Morgana snorted so loud that Aithusa tensed in her carrier. “Who died and made you king?”

Arthur tipped his chin up and took up a rather lofty air. “We know I'm the better one at logistics. And I'm more organised.”

Morgana sighed and shook her head. “Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, do I have to remind you of all the botched holidays you shared with Merlin?”

Arthur drew himself up. “That's because--” He pointed incoherently at Merlin. “--We went camping and he's got his head up in the clouds so he always forgot something.”

“You were the one who forgot to remind me to bring the tent!” Merlin had to step in and defend his own honour. It had only happened that one time. The other times, they'd always had at least a roof over their heads. They might have had nothing to cook with since Merlin had left all utensils at home, but that was another story. “It's your fault if that was a fiasco.”

Arthur looked two parts angry to one part amused. Well, as long as he was eyeing Merlin. When he set his gaze on Morgana again, he appeared wholly cross. “And that's all irrelevant anyway,” Arthur continued. “Since you're the one responsible for this mix-up.”

“I'm sure I clicked correctly,” Morgana insisted, fury making her words succinct and clipped, her cheeks hollowed out with fury.

Gwen put a staying hand on Morgana’s shoulder. “Why don't we try and find a solution instead?”

“Yes.” Elena bravely wedged herself between Arthur and Morgana. “I'm sure there's one.”

His mouth tilted in amusement, Gwaine said, “If you come up with one, I'll do my best to help you.”

Not to be forgotten, Leon said hurriedly, “I really need the non-smoking room.”

Gwaine gave him the keys to it. “That's yours, sir.”

Arthur was about to protest, but Leon murmured the word asthma again and Arthur's shoulders slumped as his fight left him. “So one of us is supposed to sleep out there?”

“Don't be so dramatic, Arthur!” Under the pretence of a pat, Morgana shoved him.

Arthur reeled on his feet for a few seconds, but managed to keep upright. “I'm not. There's one room left and two of us.”

“I have a solution,” Gwaine said, eyeing Arthur and Morgana as if their antics amused him. “There are two of you and a double.”

“You can bunk with Merlin.” Elena clapped her hands together, hopping a little with glee. “That's the perfect compromise.”

Arthur's eyes went rather big and he turned around to look at Merlin. “I should share with him?”

Merlin didn't know how to feel about Arthur's reaction. It was true that Arthur had rage fits every time he saw Merlin's flat. He often took that as his cue to criticise Merlin for his disorderly nature. Merlin had often told him that being tidy was just as hard for him as for a tiger to be meek. Arthur had just laughed at that and told him his job was influencing him the weirdest way. He'd ruffled Merlin's hair and said, “You're no predator, Merlin.” So in a way Merlin knew he and Arthur were on opposite wavelengths when it came to some things. But Merlin liked to think they agreed on the essentials, that they were friends.

The sole idea Arthur didn't want to share with him broke Merlin's heart, because nothing mattered to Merlin more than their friendship. And though Merlin admitted he had faults – many of them – he had hoped they meant nothing to Arthur, that he could deal with them just like Merlin didn't let Arthur's little shortcomings interfere with his crazy partiality for Arthur.

Heart in his throat, sadness wrapping itself around him like a blanket, Merlin tried to reply, but found he couldn't. It was silly, but his face heated up as if he'd been called names. He needed time to recoup. 

While Merlin was trying to calm down and express his feelings, Morgana said what Merlin had meant to come up with. “Oh come on, Arthur! You're always with Merlin! You go camping together, you go to concerts together, you spend all of your free time with Merlin. I don't see why you can't share one room with him for the length of a short holiday.”

Merlin would like to know the answer to that as well. He was actually looking forward to sharing with Arthur. True, Arthur snored, but Merlin could put up with it if that meant they could trade barbs well into the night. Not that Merlin enjoyed sleeplessness. But sometimes, just sometimes, Arthur would open up to him and they would be entirely honest to one another and Merlin still remembered those occasions; they all happened at night. They meant a lot to him.

Arthur lowered his gaze, went rather pink in the face and scratched at his cheek. “It's just that... Merlin's got his cat with him.”

“She is a dream to live with and she likes you.” Merlin felt offence on Aithusa's behalf. While she had had a nightmarish phase during kittenhood, she had now grown into a calm and sweet cat. 

“She pees and her pee smells and...” Arthur gesticulated wildly, indicating all the other things that Aithusa did that he didn't like.

“You know I had to bring her!” Merlin hugged Aithusa's carrier to his chest. 

While Arthur kept avoiding Merlin's eyes, Elena said, “We can keep Aithusa. And you can sleep with Merlin.”

Arthur became redder and gurgled some unintelligible words, while Aithusa, upon hearing her name meowed loudly. 

“I love Aithusa,” Morgana said. “She's a dear.” Morgana appeared indeed fond of Aithusa. She loved petting her till she purred and gave her a lot of treats. Merlin even had to stop her because his cat was putting on too much weight. “But Merlin's the one responsible for her and Arthur's got to unbend.”

“I can unbend--” Arthur made air quotes around the word. “But--”

By the moistness he could sense, Merlin suspected he was a bit teary-eyed. What was Arthur about to say? That he'd had enough of Merlin and that they weren't as tight as Merlin liked to believe? That he found Merlin's presence distasteful in large doses? “But?” Merlin couldn't stop prompting Arthur though he feared what he would say.

Arthur looked Merlin long in the eyes, and that put a stopper to his words, seemed to make him change his mind as to what to say, dropped his shoulders, and sighed. “Now, Merlin, don't take it like that.”

Merlin tried to look wholly unconcerned, but he wasn't sure he was succeeding. They had often told him he wore his heart on his sleeve. “Mmm.”

“I'm really actually fine sharing with you.” Arthur attempted a smile, but it was overly enthusiastic. He must have known for he dialled it back and, reddening, continued. “I know I can be rude sometimes--” Morgna scoffed and Arthur looked daggers at her, however he swallowed, and went on. “But I didn't mean to be and we can share, the three of us.” He looked at Aithusa with a mixture of mistrust and vague benevolence.

Hearing this lifted a weight off Merlin's chest. He told himself he could read Arthur. And just now Arthur had sounded honest to him. He really hadn't meant to hurt Merlin. He was honestly trying. A smile he couldn't control blossomed on Merlin's lips. “I promise Aithusa will behave.”

Gwaine coughed, leant on the counter, and dangled a little bronze key between them. “I take it you've made up your mind.”

 

**** 

After dinner, they all went up to their rooms. On the landing they parted with pats on the back. Their cases were already inside, so all that was left for them to do was get settled. Arthur and Merlin's room was on the small side but felt, at least, very cosy. It had wainscotting up to waist height and faux tartan wall paper. Christmas decorations were scattered all over. Over the mantelpiece stood Santa Claus statuettes. Over the table, someone had put wooden reindeer figurines. The armchairs had seasonal cushions which lay fat on the seat. The bed had a puffy red and green duvet with tassels at the corners. Around the posts were tied red ribbons with which Aithusa was lazily playing. 

Merlin stopped her, gave her a head rub, and marched over to his overnight bag, meaning to hang some of his clothes. 

He was dealing with his favourite jeans, when he heard Arthur cough meaningfully. That was a better cry for attention than Aithusa's morning screech for breakfast. Seeing as his attention was being required, Merlin turned around. “Yeah?”

“Have you had a look at the bed?” Arthur cocked his head as a way of indicating it. 

Merlin's gaze zeroed in on Aithusa. She was still pawing at the ribbon, her body coiled for play. Unfortunately Aithusa was used to having permission to roam everywhere. Often he woke to her sleeping roundabout his head or by his side on the bed. But that didn't mean Arthur should put up with it. “I'll get her to play on the floor, don't worry.”

“That's not what I meant.” Arthur once again gestured at the bed.

Merlin closed the wardrobe's door and arched an eyebrow. 

Arthur showed him the bed again as though Merlin hadn't understood his hints before. “Yes. The bed. What's with it?”

“It's--” Bouncing as he did, Arthur sat on it. “A double.”

The penny dropped. Merlin's thoughts spun faster and faster and his face got heated. His imagination went into hyper-drive and presented him with scenarios that he normally tried not to contemplate. “Mmm,” he settled for saying, “we can try and see if there's one mattress or two. If it's two...”

“Either way we only have linens for one bed!” Arthur held up a digit.

Merlin eyed the phone. “We could contact reception.”

“Have you had a look at the place?” Arthur asked. “It's family run. They don't even have a porter. Gwaine was the one who took up the luggage.”

Merlin had a chuckle. “He only offered to the girls and that's because he enjoyed ogling them.”

Arthur's jaw dropped open, then he shook his head, as if shaking the thought off, and went on with his chosen subject. “Still, he's likely clocked off. And I for one am not about to wake him and ask him for extra blankets.”

“Look.” Though he felt he was burning from the neck up, Merlin made himself think. “We're both adults, right?”

Arthur looked at him as though Merlin was stupid.

Used to being the recipient of that same look, Merlin ignored it. “I mean we've both shared our bed before.”

Pinking up, Arthur opened his mouth to speak but no word came out. 

Embarrassment worked its way into Merlin as well, so that he shrunk in on himself. But he made himself go on. “I mean we've been here before.”

Arthur, colour still heightened, choked the words out, “With lovers, Merlin.”

Merlin had been pussyfooting around that topic, but now there was no way around It. “Yes, well, I meant we can deal.” He tamped down on all nascent fantasies and all the sweeter emotions that flooded him when Arthur said the words. “Without the... you know, sex.”

Arthur straightened, all traces of relaxation vanishing from his body. “Of course!” He laughed, yet it didn't sound very light-hearted. “What did you think, Merlin? That I'd ravish you in the night?”

“No, never!” Merlin was probably lying here. He had imagined such a thing. His imagination went wild sometimes and he thought of Arthur in situations they'd never actually been in. “I just meant to say we can be adults about it.”

“Right.” Arthur observed the bed, looking unconvinced. “Naturally. I'm a grown man and nothing embarrasses me.”

“Good,” Merlin said, avoiding Arthur's gaze. “Then we share.”

“Just keep to your side and don't snore.”

Merlin wanted to object. He may sleep in odd positions, spreading his limbs out to his heart's content, but Arthur was the one who snored. Merlin bit back that retort. They had to share for the next few days, and it was already going to be difficult because Merlin had often entertained a few fantasies about Arthur, so he had better not irritate him further. 

Merlin finished emptying his overnight bag and putting his stuff in drawers and wardrobe. Soon he was done, and was ready to change into his pyjamas when Arthur started stripping. His shoes went, then his jeans, socks and jumper. 

Merlin felt his mouth go slack. Thankfully, he had time to revert to a more normal expression before Arthur turned around. For a moment, their gazes met and Merlin tried his best to look normal. He must have succeeded, because Arthur moved on and went to the bathroom. 

Knowing that tonight he wouldn't be able to strip if Arthur was there, he dived into his pyjama trousers and hastily stuffed himself into the top. Then he lifted Aithusa off the mattress and laid her on her cat bed. By the time Arthur was back in the bedroom, Merlin was ready to climb into bed. Not sure of the etiquette here, he said, “After you.”

Arthur, still clad in boxers only, coughed into his fist. “Nah, you first.”

“Arthur.” Merlin sighed the word.

“Honest.” Arthur waved his hands at the bed. “Jump in.”

Knowing that they would never get into bed unless someone did something, Merlin slipped under the covers. So as not to see Arthur when he too tucked himself in, Merlin turned and fluffed his pillows so methodically all the feathers inside got evenly distributed. When there was no more arranging to be done, he lay against the stack. He was about to relax – as much as he could given Arthur's proximity and their talk of lovers – when Arthur shifted.

He was so close now, Merlin could feel the warmth oozing off of him. It was almost as though Arthur was some kind of thermal blanket. And that led Merlin to think of what it would be like to lie closer to him, to tangle his limbs with his, to...

That way lay madness. Merlin opened his copy of his Asterix comic book, and attempted to read it. Except in spite the paucity of words, he understood not a single plot point. His brain was too busy taking in all the stimuli Arthur's presence was awakening. 

He was frowning at the page in front of him when Arthur nudged him with his elbow and asked, “So, what are you reading?”

“Asterix in Switzerland,” Merlin said, daring to look over at Arthur. Though the question had sounded perfunctory, he seemed interested in what Merlin had to say. “It's funny.”

Arthur laced his fingers together and placed them on top of the blanket. “Um, what's it about?”

Merlin was only a few pages into it and hadn't been paying attention at all, what with Arthur being so close and all. So he said, “Um, er, Asterix and Obelix travel to the land of the Elvetii.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Deep analysis there, Merlin.”

Merlin gave Arthur a little kick. “Oh come on, I decidedly recall you reading the Football Annual, that time we went camping in the Lea Valley.”

“That's not my standard fare, Merlin.” Arthur rubbed his fist on his bare chest.

Merlin attempted not to look at Arthur's naked torso – though he'd definitely seen it before – and to come up with a retort. “Yes, pardon me I forgot the time I caught you reading The Ring!”

“Boxing is the noblest art.” Arthur's eyebrow raised in challenge.

Merlin valiantly attempted not to laugh. Sobering he said, “The noblest, my arse.”

“Don't tell me you're still mad about that little accident.”

“You knocked me out flat!” Merlin could still remember the pain. It had spread from his nose to his jaw. “I could feel it for days.”

“I was only trying to teach you!” Despite his valiant self-defence, Arthur did look sheepish. “It's not my fault you have no reflexes to speak of!”

“I can still smell the raw steak.” At the memory, Merlin scrunched his nose up. 

“Look, the internet said it was a good home-made remedy to alleviate pain.” Arthur shrugged his shoulders. “How was I supposed to know you would develop an antipathy to the smell?”

Merlin glared. 

Arthur's gaze moved downwards and he bowed his head. “Yeah, well.”

Since Merlin didn't want Arthur to feel too guilty about an accident that hadn't caused any lasting damage, he said, “It wasn't so bad.”

Arthur perked up and his eyes filled with enthusiasm. “Does that mean we can try again?”

Merlin flattened his mouth. “No, Arthur.” He wasn't risking his life just to satisfy Arthur's repressed sense of sportsmanship. “We're not.”

At the rebuff, Arthur crossed his arms and pressed his lips together, staring at the ceiling in a fit of pique. Merlin wisely decided not to rebuff him or they'd never be done with the topic. Slowly, their silence changed in nature, with all negative feelings falling away and a peaceable companionship replacing it. 

Merlin read and Arthur played on his phone, the body warmth of one meeting that of the other. As the hours rolled on and the night got blacker, they got sleepier and sleepier. As one, they turned towards the light switch. When they realised they had shared the same thought, they burst out laughing.

Merlin fell asleep with a smile on his face.

**** 

The world rocked. The mattress dipped. Merlin's body shook. 

“Wake up,” Arthur's voice reached him through the whorls of sleep. “Come on, Merlin. The others are already downstairs.”

Where Merlin was it was warm and comfortable. His muscles were at ease, his bones were cradled by softness, the weight of the covers on top of him. He liked it like this. He turned his head into the pillow.

“Where has the morning person I know got to?” Arthur sounded too keen for an early morning. 

Merlin smacked his lips together and refused to open his eyes. He was more awake now than he'd been before, or at least he was more coherent. Though it was true that Merlin was an early riser who liked to be up and about with the sun, this was a holiday and he meant to indulge himself. So he reverted to a trusted phrase from the times of his adolescence. “'Nother five minutes.”

Rumbling, Arthur leant over him, his breath fanning out and hitting Merlin's face. And then he started tickling Merlin, right on the belly, well knowing that Merlin was rather sensitive to that. Merlin shouted, defending himself the best he could against this woeful attack, but he started laughing too, and by then his eyes had opened and the duvet had been flung aside. 

Arthur's hands sneaked up Merlin's body, his pyjama top riding up, and found his armpits, prodding him there. Merlin shouted, causing Aithusa to jump on the bed, ready to defend her master. Merlin was pealing with laughter by now, his voice broken by it when he managed to utter a full sentence. “Okay, Okay, I'll get up. I'll get up.”

Stopping, Arthur stepped back, placing his hands on his hips. “It’s high time. It's a skiing day today.”

Though he couldn't hide his smile, Merlin glared. “Is this revenge for all the times I called you a lazy daisy?” Merlin had been too gleeful about that at times, but when Merlin rang Arthur up in the mornings he was usually at work, busy feeding lions and tigers, his galoshes deep in mud. And Arthur was having breakfast at home prior to reaching the office. As much as Merlin loved working for a rescue organisation, he sometimes felt it wasn't entirely fair.

“What are you talking about?” Arthur walked to the window and opened the curtains, the vista of the Cairngorms unfolding before them, the highest peak covered in snow. “That is waiting for us!”

Arthur had always been a sports enthusiast. He liked and practised boxing, he played football. He was there for the Ashes. So Arthur's excitement was overall predictable. Sighing, Merlin made it to the bathroom. Teeth brushing done, he stepped into the shower, revelling in the warmth of the water cascading on him while it was so cold outside.

Merlin was already fully lathered up, when Arthur poked his head in. He already had his puffer jacket on. “Merlin!--” He coughed the moment he realised Merlin was buck naked. But he seemed to recoup quite quickly saying, “Still not done, are you?” His throat seemed to stop working. “We don't want to run late. Fresh snow is the best snow.”

Not even thoughts of vast expanses of ice helped Merlin keep his body in check. His skin heated, warming up more than the water hitting it and he felt stirrings that hinted at more to come, at a total reaction of his body. Merlin thought the least sexy thoughts he could, helping himself with visions of his most detested maths teacher and Aithusa's surprise hairballs. That helped him settle down.

Once Merlin had wrestled Aithusa off Arthur's shoe laces and fed her, they went down to breakfast. 

The meal was served in the same area that dinner had been. Their friends were all gathered round the table, but there was an addition. Gwaine was leaning on the side of it, hands waving this way and that, talking about the beauty of the Cairngorms. “And that was the best descent of my life.”

“Oh, we've got to go there,” Elena said, stuffing her mouth with a scone. “It sounds magnificent.”

Before Elena had done with her scone, Arthur and Merlin had already greeted their friends. They took a seat at their table. A diminutive waitress with a name tag that said Drea came over to their table. “What can I bring you?”

“They'll have the full monty,” Gwaine said, winking at Arthur and Merlin. “Don't worry. It's our breakfast special, no nudity required. Unless you want to, of course.”

Arthur went rigid, Merlin laughed, and Elena blushed a little, stuffing her mouth with more food. Leon and Gwen had zero reaction while Morgana sipped her tea with an up-drawn eyebrow. She was as little charmed as her brother.

Just as Drea came back from the kitchens with a tray laden with all manner of food, both sweet and savoury, Gwaine left them at a jog to go attend the guests waiting for him in the reception.

Since they had a whole day of skiing ahead of them, both Merlin and Arthur ate quite copiously. The baked beans and sausage were great, the bacon a little too crispy, and the black pudding a bit too much for Merlin's tastes. 

When they were done with breakfast, only crumbs left on the table, they set off for the Funicular Station. There they started discussing pistes.

“So which one do we choose?” Gwen asked, looking at the map.

Arthur stuck his chest out. “The Red Run, of course.”

“Arthur, that's the hard piste.” Morgana, sunglasses on, squared her jaw, taking on the looks of an expensive hitman. “We should go for something that meets everybody's skills.”

“We've come all this way to ski, Morgana.” Arthur spelt it out slowly, as if Morgana lacked the brain cells necessary to parse his meaning. “To test ourselves, to challenge ourselves to better results.”

“Actually--” Merlin knew he was in for some protesting from Arthur, but he’d bedamned if he wasn’t going to voice his opinion. “--We're just here to have a good time.”

Arthur puckered his mouth as if he was tasting lemons. “How do you even have a good time if you're not improving yourself?”

Merlin sighed. “If you still don't know that at your age, then I don't know how to explain.”

“Look,” Leon interfered. “Why don't we split up? We'll each choose the piste that suits our needs best.”

“We came together, though.” Gwen looked from one to the other of them. “We should stick together.”

Elena squinted at the map. “Well, I don't trust myself on skis. I want the Green Run.”

“All right, then.” Arthur wrapped an arm around Elena and one around Merlin. “How about Elena, Leon and Gwen take on the Green Run while Morgana, Merlin and I address the Black Run.”

At mention of the black one, Merlin spluttered, “Arthur, I'm not that good.”

Arthur pulled him even closer. “Don't worry, Merlin. I'll take care of you.”

So somehow Merlin found himself sitting on a ski-lift headed for Ptarmigan Station, the departure point of all pistes. The view, he had to admit, was fine. Snow glistened down the slopes, while the sky sparkled with the brightness of a winter sun. Crags vied for the horizon line in stark stone pyramids. But Merlin's nose was cold and about to fall off and his feet felt frozen in spite of two layers of woollen socks. 

Merlin was less keen on a day spent skiing than he was on the view. Once they reached the top of the mountain, they split up in groups. Elena, Leon and Gwen shuffled their way towards the Traverse section of the piste, which was marked in green. Taking speed on her skis, Morgana vied for the Ciste Gully, which, according to the map, ended in a black section. Merlin was about to reluctantly go after her, when Arthur stopped him.

“Nope, Merlin.” Arthur's hand went to Merlin's chest. “We'll go down the East Wall and descend by way of the Second Gully.”

“But that's even harder,” Merlin said, his enthusiasm for the day deflating. He had a suspicion he was going to break bones today, just in time for Christmas.

“Trust me, Merlin,” Arthur said, bending his knees to pilot himself forward. “I'll cut the way.”

Knees slightly bent, poles out, Arthur started down the first part of the run. By the way he was going, you could tell just how good he was on skis. His turns were short; his descent was fast and balanced, his style perfect, with a stable posture and confident swings. 

Merlin was never going to match him. At this point, he just hoped he got out of this alive. Heels wide apart, toes pointing inwards, Merlin propelled himself forward and downwards. He acquired some speed but made sure not to go too fast. He was sweating cold, hoping he didn't lose control. He also prayed a little and cursed a little, keeping on an internal monologue he was glad nobody could hear.

Once he got going, it wasn't that bad though. He hadn't forgotten the basics and he was even starting to enjoy the bracing air and the work out. But he had to be prudent, keeping his weight evenly distributed and avoiding other skiers, keeping an eye out for the reckless ones.

He had just come at the end of the green run when he spotted Arthur again. He had stopped for Merlin, his poles down, and body turned towards Merlin’s direction. 

Merlin snow ploughed and stopped on his skis, their points converging. He smiled big at Arthur and said, “I made it, see.”

“Yes, Merlin.” Because of the goggles he was wearing, Arthur's expression stayed unreadable. “You made the easy bit. Now let me teach you how to tackle the black section.”

“I think I can just make it,” Merlin said, not paying attention to all the skiers zooming past him. “If I go very slowly and let all those guys overtake me.”

Arthur tutted. “Merlin, Merlin, Merlin...you should have more self-confidence.”

That said, Arthur turned his body towards the slope, pointed his skis down in the snow before him and was off. 

Merlin looked at the wide open space before him, with all the obstacles, jump structures and narrow bends and hoped ardently he wouldn't die today. Then he shifted his weight on his skis and put pressure of the inside edges to the centre. He slid downwards easily. 

Maybe he wasn't careering down the slope the same way as Arthur was and most assuredly he wasn't taking that jump, but he was making some sort of –graceless – descent.

For his part, Arthur zoomed between poles, skied rails and boxes, and showed off his cliff-hucking skills, performing manoeuvres usually only seen at the winter Olympics.

At a more sedate pace, Merlin sped onwards. Nearly instantly, the boards sank deeply into the white dust, then surfaced again as he picked up speed. He pointed them straight towards the bottom of the run, carefully avoiding steep passages, scarps and off-piste areas. 

Arthur had just negotiated the end of the run when Merlin felt himself gaining too much speed. Instinctively, he pointed his skis together in a snow-plough. If he didn't slow down, he would never make the last corner. Though his thoughts swirled fast, Merlin made himself think of the basics, of all the lessons Arthur had given him. He knew what to do. He had learnt that. So all he had to do was stop his heart from racing and concentrate on all his actions from here on forwards. With the chilly wind in his face as he skied down the length of the trail, he kept his arms forward, his knees bent and his weight on the downhill ski, pressing its uphill edge into the mountain. Dragging his poles down, he started to lose speed. As he did, his heartbeat went back to almost normal, and he negotiated the last turn in an ungainly but almost safe manner. 

Limbs preserved, he came to a halt, finding himself a few yards uphill from Arthur. Snow spraying over the front of his skis, he lifted one of his poles to wave at Arthur in triumph. He held his pole all the way up, when he felt himself back sliding. Before he could utter a syllable, he ended up arse first in the snow, body splayed unflatteringly.

Taking off his skis, Arthur waded towards him, shouting, “Merlin!”

It didn't take a genius to guess at the edge of panic in Arthur's voice, nor to detect the fear in his eyes when he loomed over Merlin, patting him down in an attempt to detect injuries.

Though the small of his back hurt and he was getting colder and colder the more prolonged his contact with the snow got, Merlin smiled. He was alive, feeling chilly but alive, and Arthur cared. That was all that mattered. Still grinning inanely, Merlin said, “I'm mostly okay.”

 

**** 

Arthur clung to him. To start with, he escorted Merlin to the first ski-lift down, wrapping an arm round his waist and supporting his weight as if Merlin had been gravely injured. Merlin insisted he was fine, just cold and sore. He sneezed all over the place and worryingly Arthur didn't recoil. Once they were valley side, Arthur made sure to pat him down all over again, never mind that he wasn't a doctor and didn't know what signs to look for. Next he took him to mountain side café, telling Merlin he needed to have some warmth worked into him.

Merlin didn't mind that bit. The cafe was a warm place, with heaters in multiple corners, a bona fide fire in the fireplace, and blankets spread over all the seats.

Piloting him towards one of these, Arthur said, “We need brandy.”

Merlin had nothing against brandy per se, but he couldn't stop needling Arthur a little bit. “Have you become a St. Bernard?”

Before his face settled into his concerned attitude, Arthur briefly scowled. “A St. Bernard, Merlin?”

Merlin specified. “With the flask, you know.”

“Yes, I know, Merlin,” Arthur said through slightly gritted teeth. 

“Though you look more like a Golden Retriever.” Arthur did have that shiny hair cape. “Maybe they do have Golden Retrievers who do mountain rescue.”

Though Arthur didn't say it, Merlin could hear the 'shut up, Merlin' that Arthur would have uttered had Merlin not just fallen on his arse on the side of a mountain. Wisely, Merlin chose to tamp down on the teasing. Well, either that or Arthur would bite his head off.

They found themselves a nice corner table, the one closest to the fire. Arthur covered Merlin's legs with the blanket and plastered himself to his side, his arm around the back of the seat so that Merlin's body was cradled in a half embrace.

Despite his chilly and wet ski suit, Merlin felt undeniably warm, especially about the face. He tried to tell himself that the heat of the fire was working wonders on him, but he wasn't that clueless. Though he and Arthurhad years of closeness to fall back upon, lately Merlin was feeling more and more dazed by Arthur, more and more confused by his reactions to him. Some of them were attributable to his young man’s libido, but the others weren't so easy to explain away. Why did Arthur fluster him? Why did he work on all his senses so? 

He had no time to interrogate himself on the matter however, for the waitress appeared and Merlin had to look normal.

By the time their orders arrived, two brandies in tall glasses with a silver cup, other patrons had trickled in, Morgana among them.

Despite the arctic climate, she looked flawless. Her hair was up in a ponytail that hadn't sagged. Her make-up had stayed on and her sunglasses gave her a cool allure she oozed effortlessly. When she saw them, she joined them at their table. 

“Looking cosy, I see,” she said, sinking in the chair opposite them.

Arthur and Merlin spluttered at the same time.

“And eloquent.” Morgana read the menu and ordered herself a Prosecco. 

Arthur said, “Merlin ran afoul of his skis. I'm simply making sure he doesn't die of frostbite.”

Though Merlin was enjoying having Arthur so close, he put some distance between them. “I didn't run foul of my skis.” The point needed to be made. Merlin had a dignity. “I actually completed a track above my skill level.”

“But ended bum first in the snow.” Arthur arched an eyebrow.

“It was actually your fault.” Fair was fair, Merlin thought. “You chose the run.”

“Because I'm trying to improve your skills, Merlin.”

“Who ever said they need improving!” As far as Merlin knew he didn't live in the far reaches of Norway, so he didn't actively need to ski well.

With a smile Morgana accepted a glass from the waitress. She toyed with the paper umbrella that had been used as decoration. “Have you done bickering?”

Merlin told Arthur, “If he's done denigrating my amply sufficient skiing skills.”

“I'm simply trying to look out for you, Merlin.” Arthur's complexion got redder. “A man in control of his skis is a man who'll have no accidents.”

They were still arguing that point, when Leon, Elena and Gwen avalanched inside, laughing and bantering. With a waving hand, Morgana hailed them and they joined them at their table.

“So did you three have fun with your run?” Gwen asked, taking a sip from Morgana's glass.

“I don't think the black trail is quite challenging enough to deserve that title,” Arthur said, pursing his lips in thought.

“I had a grand time, Gwen.” Morgana slipped her arm under Gwen's.

“I fell.” Merlin had considered skipping over that bit, because it was frankly humiliating, but he wanted a bit of commiseration from parties other than Arthur.

“Actually,” Arthur tipped up an eyebrow, “he just landed on his behind at the end of the run.”

“You were the one acting so concerned!” Merlin couldn't forget the ring of Arthur's panicked voice when Merlin had tumbled backwards. 

“I worried because of the way you defied gravity, Merlin.”

Morgana placed a hand on her forehead and shook her head. “Can somebody stop them from sounding like an old married couple? I've already to put up with Uther and Catrina.”

The waitress had just arrived to take in everyone else's orders, when she heard that. “Is anyone married? We offer a free drink to all newly minted couples.”

Morgana pointed at Merlin and Arthur. Merlin and Arthur looked at each other, their faces visibly heating, before they started explaining their relationship history to the poor hapless server. The woman started backing away slowly, nodding her head and smiling feebly, clearing thinking they were off their rocker. 

Before she was gone, all the table was laughing at them. Merlin had never felt so embarrassed and he believed Arthur was working through the same emotions. Since denial didn't help, he buried his face in his hands and stayed that way for a few solid minutes. He blamed Christmas for this.

 

**** 

His muscles aching and his body cold, Merlin was glad they were finally going back to their room. He was looking forward to changing into something warm and parking his bum on a comfortable armchair. Preferably he wouldn't move a muscle and just relax. Arthur, who had had to brave their friends needling, seemed just as happy to put a stop to that and call it quits for the night.

No sooner had Merlin entered their room than Aithusa pounced on his feet. She had already eaten the food Merlin had left out for her, but Merlin wanted to give her a treat. So he shuffled towards his stash, when Arthur stopped him.

“I'll do it,” he said, rummaging among Aithusa's things. 

Merlin gaped. Arthur would never consciously hurt an animal, but he wasn't exactly a cat person. His relationship with Aithusa was mostly one of avoidance. “Are you feeling well, Arthur? Did the chill do you in?”

Arthur opened the treats packet and poured a few onto his palm. Knowing that sound and smell well, Aithusa perked up, and tentatively moved towards Arthur's hand. When she came into contact with it, she sniffed. And then gobbled up the treats. 

His hand still extended, Arthur reached out to Merlin's cat. When she didn't draw back, he petted Aithusa between the ears and the cat head-butted his hand. Before long, she was purring. A smile bloomed on Arthur's face and he levelled his astounded gaze on Merlin. “She likes it, Merlin!”

“Of course she does.” Merlin couldn't help be glad of this development. Ever since he got Aithusa, he'd hoped he could share the joy of her with Arthur. Because doing things with Arthur was always better, enjoying Aithusa with him felt like a gift.

When Aithusa had had as many treats as she could digest, Arthur turned his attention to Merlin. 

Merlin was trying to strip off his ski suit, when Arthur stepped over to him. “Oh no, you're not doing that.”

“Not doing what?” Merlin's eyebrow climbed up.

“You're not doing that by yourself.” Arthur pushed him into a sitting position at the end of the bed and knelt by his side. 

Though he wanted to pay attention to what Arthur was saying so earnestly, Merlin couldn't really. His thoughts had taken a turn for the erotic and it definitely wasn't his fault. It was all because Arthur was kneeling between his knees and Merlin couldn't help but entertain a couple of lewd fantasies. He was only mortal after all and Arthur's expression was bordering on the angelic here, his concern for Merlin's strained muscles making him appear softer around the edges than his usual stiff upper lip allowed.

Plus, you had to give it to Merlin, Arthur's worry over him made him feel loved and coddled, made him experience all the benefits of friendship. It wasn't that strange of him to dream of more, was it? He was aware of the hard realitythat Arthur would never be more to him than a friend. And wasn't that how he wanted it? He was so fond of Arthur; he couldn't stand it if he got burned by him. Besides, Merlin was sure wisdom lay in avoiding hurt if at all possible. Christmastime had just turned him into a sop who believed Hallmark Channel love stories could be true. 

“Come on,” Arthur told him, cupping his heel as he took off Merlin's other boot. “Let's get you ready for bed.”

Merlin found himself helped to his feet by Arthur, who then proceeded to divest him of his thermal jacket and his undershirt. Having had no prior warning of this Merlin shivered, the passing touch of Arthur's fingers raising goose flesh.

“You're cold, aren't you?” So Arthur had noticed Merlin's reaction.

“Yeah,” Merlin stammered, his ears flaming as he outright lied. With the heating turned up to the max in their room,not even a camel could have been cold in the room's artificial climate.

“You've caught a cold, that's what.” Arthur was nattering on as if to himself. “I told you you should not keep that wet suit on.”

Merlin found himself compelled to play along. Either that or reveal his feelings. Which, no, he couldn't do. Arthur would laugh about them. As much as Merlin's was sure of Arthur's loyalty to him, as much as he knew that Arthur would be there for him if something bad ever happened to him, he also understood that there were limits to Arthur's emotions for him. “It's just a mild cold. I'm not even sneezing. See?”

“That's good,” Arthur said, fingers moving south towards the Velcro strap of Merlin's ski trousers. “We don't want you contagious just in time for Christmas.”

Abruptly, Merlin turned around. He had felt himself stir. He had felt the thrum of excitement awaken his cock. And, no, that was not good. Not in front of Arthur. What in the bollocking heck was happening to him? He hadn't been like this before. At least not outside of nocturnal fantasies.

So as not to betray himself, Merlin coughed violently into his fist, keeping up the pretence he was ill. The cough sounded as fake as any on telly, but was the best he could master to save face. As he turned away from Arthur, he tried to tamp down on his wayward urges. 

“See,” Arthur was saying, blithely unaware of what Merlin was going through. “You're not well, Merlin. Come on, off to bed with you.”

Before Arthur could try and strip him again of his ski trousers, Merlin disposed of them himself. He was calmer now. Fortunately, he had once followed a relaxation course that had taught him how to find his centre. Even so, turning around in nothing but his boxers and with Arthur there to look at him was a real challenge. He ought to have been a Zen master to withstand that. Before his anatomy could go wild again and reveal to Arthur the obvious truth, Merlin dove into the bed.

Once he was under the covers, he felt safer. Until Arthur tucked him in, muttering as if to himself. “You don't really know how to take care of yourself Merlin, do you?” He sounded like a disappointed school teacher. “I have no idea what you would do without me. Luckily, I'm here to make sure you don't injure yourself.”

Merlin had a lot to say about that, but he kept it to himself. He was having enough of a hard time keeping his body in check, which wasn't made easier by Arthur's unclothing for the night. Merlin told himself not to look, that therein only lay trouble, but he couldn't stop himself. Arthur was walking and talking, stripping as he did until he was only clad in a pair of boxer shorts and that was that. Merlin followed his wanderings across the room as if he was a spectator at a tennis match.

Eventually, Arthur stopped roaming the room and slipped into bed beside Merlin. The awkwardness from the night before seemed gone. Arthur started reading his sports almanac as though he was used to sharing a bed with Merlin, as if they did this every night of their lives. He even spread out on the bed, his feet and elbows touching Merlin, a smile on his face as he went on with his read. 

“Did you know that Steve Guppy is the only footballer to have played for England, England B, England C and the England under 21's?” Arthur said before turning another page.

Merlin looked to the ceiling. “No, Arthur. It's not the kind of thing I'd remember.” Arthur knew that well.

“And did you know that prior to the 1957 Masters, golfer Doug Ford not only predicted his victory, but his winning score of 283 as well?” Arthur licked his lips, his eyes tracking the page.

“I can't say I knew that either.” Merlin wasn't into golf. It seemed to him the most boring of sports. He even sucked at the mini version of it.

Arthur rolled onto his side, planting his elbow into the mattress, his hand supporting his face. He smiled a smile that reached his eyes and made them twinkle. “Remember that time we went golfing on a real course?”

“Yeah.” It wasn't exactly one of his favourite memories. Merlin had not only lost, he had got the most abysmal results. And it had rained, which had made the ground muddy, which had turned all swinging actions into a murk shower. Merlin had never been able to wash away the stains. The only reason why he still thought it a positive experience were the memories he had retained of Arthur's happiness at getting a hole in one three consecutive times. The misery had at least been worthwhile. “You didn't buy me a drink afterwards.”

“It's a tradition, Merlin.” Amusement shone in Arthur's eyes. “Not a rule.”

“It would've been nice,” Merlin muttered, almost to himself. “If I hadn't locked myself out on the hotel balcony-”

“Come on, you ended up having fun.” Arthur's eyes lit up. “And I rescued you.”

“I spent two bleeding hours on that balcony.”

Arthur's snort morphed into a laugh. “It was June. It wasn't as if you were freezing your arse off.”

Merlin took the pillow from under his head and hit Arthur with it. Not one to be attacked without retaliating, Arthur did the same and battered Merlin with his own pillow. Merlin laughed and shouted, welting Arthur blindly. 

Again Arthur pounced. This time he didn't just pummel Merlin, he rolled on top of him, disarming him of the pillow, laughing as he did. 

With Merlin flattened against the mattress, Arthur pinned his arms over his head. All of a sudden Merlin found himself trapped between the bed and Arthur's warm body. He could feel him all over in unprecedented ways and the sensation raised Merlin's temperature and stopped his breath. When he finally took in a hissed breath Arthur noticed. His laughter died down and his expression changed, going from mirth to seriousness. 

Merlin was of a mind to drop his gaze, but he couldn't. He could only look Arthur in the eyes and be fascinated by their depths. His breathing got faster and his heart betrayed him by beating double time. Arthur stared at Melrin, too, as if there was something new or different about his face. Merlin couldn't fathom what it was, unless his expression had revealed what was going on with him. Though he hoped he wasn't that transparent, he couldn't escape from the epiphany that hit him.

God, but he loved every line and crease and highlight of Arthur's face. The way his eyes sparkled and caught the light. The way his lips lifted when he smiled. The way his hair shone like sun-kissed wheat. How happiness or wonder looked on him. Merlin was so fond of all those features. Merlin loved them all. Merlin loved Arthur.

And Arthur seemed to know, to have found out. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. Merlin heard him suck in a breath. And then his face seemed to relax, the tension in his jaw to go away. And something like wonder played upon his features. But then his jaw firmed again, sharpening like the side of a blade, and determination oozed out of him.

Not letting go of his hold on Merlin's wrists, he lowered himself atop him, so that their bodies matched angle for angle and then his mouth descended on Merlin's, fitting itself upon his. Electricity zoomed through Merlin, making his heart clop at such a pace it almost hurt. When Arthur's mouth opened his, Merlin felt himself go warm all over, every muscle, every bone, every fibre of his flamed. When their tongues touched and sparred, slipping in and out of their mouths, Merlin experienced an overwhelming wave of emotions of such a nature they stripped him bare.

The kiss was slow and deep, tangled and involved. Merlin wanted it to last forever, to be touching Arthur this way for all the moments to come. But just as Merlin was dissolving into a pile of goo, Arthur vaulted off him.

He sat on his side of the bed, staring straight ahead, the back of his hand held across his mouth. He was breathing laboriously, his chest rising and falling quite quickly, his shoulders tense. 

At that Merlin panicked. He didn't know what had happened, how he'd gone from bliss to this, but certainly Arthur's behaviour could only mean one thing. He was regretting the kiss. He hadn't liked it. Merlin shouldn't have kissed him back. He shouldn't have reciprocated when he knew too well they were just friends. Best buddies, but nothing more. He had jeopardised their friendship, and he couldn't stand that. A cold wave hit him; he might as well have been still sitting in the snow out there. “Arthur,” he said in a voice that sounded more broken than he had wanted it to.

“I'm sorry, Merlin.” Arthur didn't look his way. He stayed facing away from Merlin, his body wholly tight. “I-- I apologise.”

Arthur's hesitation in finding words was so uncharacteristic Merlin worried even more. Had their kiss had such a negative impact on him he'd lost his eloquence? Had he undone their whole relationship in one fell swoop? “Arthur, it's—”

Arthur didn't let him finish. “No, Merlin, that was inappropriate. I shouldn't have done it.” He jumped off the bed and took the extra pillows stashed in the wardrobe. He laid them in a straight line along the middle of the bed, thus dividing it in two clear cut sections. 

Merlin's heart broke a little. They hadn't needed this the night before. Nothing had happened and they had simply shared the bed. This must have shaken Arthur a lot for him to change behaviours like this. Maybe he was put off by their kiss. Maybe he had so disliked it that he wanted to put as much distance between them as possible. Merlin just hoped this hadn't undone their friendship, too.

Merlin wanted to say something, reassure Arthur that this was okay. He'd swear he'd never kiss Arthur again. He would never ever cross that line again, just as long as their relationship stayed the same as it always had. 

But Arthur laid himself under the covers, pulled the duvet up to his chin, turned on his side, facing away from Merlin, and turned out the light. “Good night, Merlin,” he said dully.

In the darkness, Merlin lost all courage. He couldn't voice his thoughts. He couldn't tell Arthur all he had planned to. He found himself unable to face Arthur's outrage. He would do something about it tomorrow. He would at least ensure they were on a peaceful footing. For now. he could do nothing more than let himself be lulled by the darkness of the cold night into restless slumber.

**** 

An errant ray of sunshine woke Merlin. His brain still fuzzy, he slowly sat up in bed. He was in his hotel room, in the bed he had shared with Arthur, but of Arthur himself there was no trace. No sound came from the bathroom either, which meant he wasn't there. Merlin was all alone.

In his socks, he walked to the window. Snow covered the vista and made it glint in the sunlight. There was no fog and the day was as clear as any summer one. It was a perfect Christmas Eve morning, the kind Merlin had always loved. But there was no Arthur to share it with. Memories of the night before resurfaced and he blamed himself for what had happened. 

If they hadn't kissed, he would still have all of Arthur's affection and that was what mattered most of all.

Dejection working its way inside him, Merlin washed and dressed rather listlessly. When he was ready, he went downstairs to reluctantly face the day. His friends were all gathered round the breakfast table, barring Arthur. 

By now Merlin had a very bad feeling about this. “Where's Arthur?”

“He went for a walk,” Morgana told him, eyeing Merlin suspiciously. “He said he had to work out a sweat before having breakfast.”

Leon put down his coffee. “He actually wanted to go for a run.” He toyed with the cup, swirling the remaining liquid inside. “I told him to have a look at the ice. He was finally persuaded not to jog.”

That was exactly like Arthur. When he was angry or nervous he focused on physical activities. He got moving and that calmed him. If he’d had to resort to that, it meant he was really upset. “Um.” Merlin couldn't tell the others what had happened the night before. Morgana was Arthur's sister and she'd blame Merlin. As for the others, he wasn't certain they would understand. 

So Merlin silently sat down to breakfast, his thoughts on Arthur rather than food. Still, he'd better keep up appearances or his friends would ask him what was wrong. In place of Drea, Gwaine appeared. He was wearing an apron that bore the face of a reindeer from which antlers protruded. 

Merlin gawped. That was certainly rather eccentric. “Where's the other girl?”

“Oh it's Christmas Eve,” Gwaine said, tapping his pen against a scribbled note pad. “I gave her the day off.”

The corners of Leon's mouth lifted. “That's a true hero of the people.”

“I like that definition.” Gwaine shook his hair out. He looked like a model from a shampoo ad. “A hero.”

“Like a questing knight.” Elena lifted her orange juice glass to him.

“Sir Gwaine.” Gwaine tried the title out. “That sounds good.”

Just as Merlin finished ordering breakfast, Arthur appeared. He was sweaty, with hair plastered to his skull. He was wearing track trousers, a big fleecy jumper, and muddy trainers. He had clearly been long in the cold because his hands had reddened and so had his nose. 

“Ah,” Morgana said, dabbing her mouth with a festive napkin. “He hath returned.”

Arthur glared at her. There was more animosity in that look than there had wont to be. Arthur and Morgana often bickered, but that was always intended as something of a joke. That was they way interacted, their sibling rapport. This really was off.  
“Pardon me for not being at your back and call.”

“As if.” Morgana scoffed. “I was just pointing out your lack of punctuality.”

“Though you might believe otherwise.” Arthur tensed all over, his jaw sharpening more and more. “I'm not your slave.”

“Excuse me for believing you wanted to share some quality time with your near and dear ones when you accepted to go on holiday with them.” Morgana's lips thinned.

Gwen put her hands out, palms on show. “Why don't we decide where we should go today?”

Gwaine, who had just got to their table with a tray, overheard that. “If you don't mind me interfering, I can offer some advice.”

“We're all ears,” Elena said, echoing Leon's nod.

Putting down his tray, Gwaine spoke. “I have a couple of friends, Tristan and Isolde. They run a Sled-dog centre a little outside Aviemore. With the weather being like this you'll be guaranteed a ride through snow. Many of our guests have had a blast.”

Gwen looked at Elena, whose eyes were already sparkling, while Leon smiled in a pleased fashion. Arthur sat to breakfast without commenting. He took items off the tray with Merlin's order without even asking if he could and began eating in silence. Merlin didn't point out that Arthur had just plundered his breakfast. He got hold of his tea and called himself satisfied. He wasn't hungry anyway, not when the memories of the night before played havoc with him. 

While Merlin blamed himself for what had happened, the others made a decision as to their daily schedule. They would spend Christmas morning sledding.

The sledding centre rose at the end of a long snow-covered drive bordered by whitened firs. Tristan and Isolde and two of their dogs waited for them at the entrance. They all got off the van and went to them. “Welcome to our centre,” Isolde said, shaking the hands of everybody in turn. “We're glad to have you as our guests.”

They followed them inside the centre, where they were given hot chocolates and instructions about the sledding that was about to happen. 

“So wrap up well,” Tristan said, as he led them outside were the dogs were being hooked to the sleds. “It can be cold out there.”

There were three sleds, each of which could carry two people. Attached to each was a team of six beautiful huskies. Merlin wanted to go out to them and pet them, but he was afraid he smelled too much like cat to be able to pull that off.

With snow up to their ankles they tramped towards the sled. They had made no plans as to which pair would board which vehicle. Gwen and Morgana seemed to have a short discussion in front of the first sled; when this was over, Gwen took Elena under her arm and mounted the conveyance, placing a warm fleece blanket on both their knees.

As was usual with him, Merlin looked to Arthur for a companion. Perhaps they could talk about what had happened and make sure to make peace. Merlin wanted that so badly and some alone time would definitely help. But Arthur glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, stiffened, pouted and got into the second sled, which Leon had already occupied. 

At that Merlin's heart went to pieces. If Arthur had no willingness to make up, then their friendship was doomed. Merlin didn't know how he'd live without it and didn't even want to think about it. But the knot that tied itself around his throat was all too real. His world was about to come to an end. 

Something must have shown on his face, because Morgana knocked hips with him in a decidedly consolatory fashion. “Let's share,” she said, tugging him onto the last sled. 

Since he couldn't avoid taking part in this outing, Merlin let himself be seated. When they were all in place, the first sled started forwards, the others following. As the wind hit his face, Merlin huddled under the blanket, the stiff breeze freezing his nose and earlobes. He had no idea how Morgana was not bothered at all, but she retained her poise in spite of the cold. No red cheeks or chafed hands for her, and she wasn't even wearing gloves.

“So,” she said, startling Merlin from a reverie inspired by seeing the back of Arthur's head. “What's going on?”

“I'm turning into an icicle but other than that...”

“Don't lie to me.” Morgana pinched his arm. “I know there's something the matter with you. You look like a sad cocker spaniel.”

“If the comparison was meant to be disparaging,” Merlin told her, pulling up the blanket so it was covering more of him, “I'll let you know that I love all animals.”

“You know it wasn't meant to be.” Morgana faced the wind as she said this.

“Really, Morgana, I'm fine.” Merlin gazed at the dogs. Their fur was like silver and shone in the morning light. They seemed to be pulling the sled with ease, as if born to the task. “There's nothing wrong with me.”

Morgana sighed. “Unfortunately, Merlin, you wear your heart on your sleeve.”

Merlin refused to look Morgana in the eye. The alternative was focusing on Arthur in the buggy ahead. He didn't seem to be talking to Leon or to be gazing at the vista. He just sat there, rather rigidly, barely moving. Merlin wondered whether Arthur was angry with him, whether he was considering ending their friendship. Merlin shivered, and this time it was not from the December cold. 

Morgana appeared to have noticed, because she rubbed his arm, managing somehow to work some heat into it. “Look, Merlin, it doesn't take a genius to guess it's about Arthur.”

“Arthur?” Merlin tried to look as innocent as he could. “Why, Arthur? That's ridiculous.”

Morgana laughed and it wasn't a polite laugh. Rather she sounded like she was making fun of him. “Come on, we both know that you think the sun rises and sets on Arthur.”

Merlin made a noise to point out his disagreement. He supposed he sounded like a dog whose tail someone had stepped on. “That's not true.”

“Oh it is.” Morgana didn't sound ready to accept any opposition. “Given that and my brother's behaviour this fine morn, it's clear that something happened between you.”

Merlin acted out his best innocent spiel. “Nothing happened, Morgana.”

“Mmm.” It was clear she wasn't convinced, but she neither flinched nor pointed out the lie. “You know that whatever it is it's just a phase, don't you?”

Merlin made a show of observing the panorama. It was certainly seasonal enough. Snow blanketed the track, forming soft mounds on either side of it. The branches of proud Scottish firs were weighed down by it. The dogs' white and grey fur blended in with the ice and frost covering boughs and bushes. “I still don't know what you're talking about.”

“Fair's fair, you don't want to talk about it,” Morgana said, readjusting the blanket that a gust of wind had misplaced. “But I'll tell you this: Arthur is so fond of you he'd rather have his right hand cut off than let anything happen to you. He's so into you he'll talk and talk about you for hours without even noticing.” Morgana's gaze pierced Merlin. “So whatever it is, it'll sort itself out.”

Merlin wanted to tell her that this time it was different. They had crossed the line from where there would be no returning. But if Merlin shared that, he'd have to mention the ill-fated kiss. He didn't think Morgana would welcome news of that. In spite of appearances, she was protective of her brother and if she learned of Merlin's faux pas, she'd rip him a new one.

“Believe me, Merlin,” Morgana said, just as it started snowing. “You and Arthur will always be close.”

Merlin would have said something to that at least, but they started on the return road, harness bells jingling, and he couldn't bring himself to.

 

**** 

Merlin couldn't get a hold of Arthur. For some reason he hadn't been able to talk to him the whole day. When they'd got back to the inn, Arthur had pleaded ill with a headache, and Merlin was roped into a visit to a reindeer herd. Gwen had insisted and he couldn't say no to Gwen. They went to a mountain enclosure, walked amongst the herd, stroking and feeding animals as the herder told them stories. Thanks to his job, Merlin was used to interacting with animals, but reindeer were different from big cats, polar opposites more or less. He had to admit he had fun. 

But by the time they were back at the lodge, Merlin had remembered why he was so dejected. Arthur wasn't on speaking terms with him anymore. That was rendered clear when Merlin made it to their room to find it empty. Oh Arthur's stuff was still there, but of the man himself, there was no trace. 

Wherever he was, Arthur was clearly avoiding him. Merlin's shoulders slumped. He sat at the foot of the bed and Aithusa came sauntering over, her tail up in greeting. She brushed against his legs, circled the rug, then came back to head-butt his shin. Needing some loving attention, Merlin picked her up. “So what do you think, Aithusa? Have we lost him?”

Aithusa settled in his lap, purring as he petted her. She at least was loyal to him, loving him unerringly whatever he did. She might vocally complain if he woke ten minutes later than usual and thus fed her at the wrong time, but he knew she was steadfast. He'd have said the same of Arthur, except he didn't know whether he'd done something Arthur couldn't forgive.

He sighed and got up. 

It was Christmastime; he had to act as though nothing was the matter. He couldn't ruin the others' festivities, beginning with Aithusa. Searching in her bag he found a tin of her favourite wet food, which he poured in her bowl. As she ate, he dressed for dinner. Since he was among friends, he didn't need anything formal, so he just changed jumpers, making sure his was a silly seasonal one, as was expected of him. Then he collected the presents he'd bought the others in a bag and went downstairs.

The inn's dining room looked mighty festive. A big tree rose at the back, decorated with all the colours of the rainbow. Smaller trees sat on the bay windows seats. The tables were illuminated by candles and covered in seasonal tablecloths. The signposts came in the shape of little Santas, tiny wreaths of holly, and sugar canes.

Merlin was quick to find his friends table. It was one of the largest and the one by which Gwaine was hovering around, talking animatedly and gesticulating. Merlin made a beeline for them. It was only when he got there that he realised Arthur wasn't among the rest of them. His face, which had been wearing a composed smile till then, fell entirely.

At the notion Arthur had passed on Christmas dinner, Merlin felt like crying. He didn't. He couldn't break down in tears with no explanation. His friends would think him crazy. This was his favourite time of the year; he was here to eat, drink and be merry. Besides, he couldn't tell them how much his happiness depended on Arthur's presence, on a reconciliation with him.

Without saying a word, he took a place at their table. Leon gave him a pat on the back and Gwen a big smile. Morgana looked at him rather intensely from over the rim of a wine glass. Elena passed him the bread and told him they were waiting for him to order.

“Oh,” Merlin looked around as if he could fill the emptiness by an act of his will. Of course he couldn't. Who had he been trying to fool? “Where's Arthur?”

“He wasn't feeling very well,” Morgana said, eyeing Merlin with a very deliberate stare. “He decided to take a flight back home.”

“On Christmas Eve?” Merlin had to bite back the sob that wanted to escape. If Arthur was so angry with him as to give up on the holiday, then they were really done for. Arthur might say he was unsentimental, but he was keen on spending the day with his sister and his friends. He wouldn't have come all the way to Scotland otherwise. “Are there even flights?”

Elena frowned. “I don't think there are any this late in the day.”

“Did he take the van?” Leon put in.

“He would never leave us without a means of transport.” Gwen seemed so sure she drove some comfort into Merlin's bones.

“So how did he go?” Elena looked as confused as she had before.

“Don't worry,” Morgana said, looking a trifle too unconcerned, given that this was her brother they were talking about. “He can look after himself.”

Gwaine took that as his cue to step in. “So that's my cue to bring the dinner.”

At Morgana's nod, Gwaine set off for the kitchens. As they waited for their food, Merlin's friends started a convivial conversation. They commented on the joys of the season, the food they would eat, and the other guests of the inn. When a singer mounted the little stage built at the back of the room, they all listened raptly. She was so good that her rendition of Silent Night nearly took Merlin's mind off his growing sadness.

But he reverted to it time and again. Arthur had preferred spending the holiday alone rather than face him. He had taken it so badly, he'd chosen the abrupt way out. Once they were back in London, Merlin would try to make amends. He would try with all his might, but he feared that wouldn't help. What if Arthur had decided they were done? Merlin didn't look forward to a year without him.

Gwaine brought food. The first course was cock-a-leekie, as Gwaine informed them. Tasting it, Merlin realised it was leeks and peppered chicken stock, thickened with barley. Though he wasn't hungry, the taste was enough to coax him into eating a spoonfull or two. 

Next Gwaine served them an enormous turkey drowned in red wine gravy and with sides of roast parsnips, potatoes and Brussels sprouts. Everyone partook, even Merlin, though he did not eat much of what was on his plate. No one noticed because they were too busy eating and talking themselves. 

“This is almost better than my mum's turkey,” Leon was saying, cutting more pieces to eat. 

Gwaine, who had just served the table near theirs, stopped in his tracks. “I'll take that as a compliment. I have a cuisine diploma from Cordon Bleu.”

Leon whistled. “Well, it shows.”

Elena said, “It reminds me of childhood Christmases. My nanny, Grunhilda, used to make turkey just like this.”

“Wasn't that the nanny who tried to kidnap you?” Gwen asked, dismay showing on her face.

“Oh yes.” Elena spoke with her mouth full. “But she was a good cook.”

“Wait, wait.” Gwaine got slightly bug-eyed. “You mean to say someone tried to kidnap you?”

“And ransom me, yeah.” Elena made a funny face.

“Elena's an heiress.” Morgana explained it for Gwaine.

“That's not even my weirdest Christmas tale.” Elena had swallowed by this time. At least there would be no choking incident this festive season. “The weirdest was my dad introducing us to his new fiancée. She was a black widow. The police came and everything.”

“Oh like Catrina, then.” Morgana's distaste at the memory showed on her face.

“Who's Catrina?” Gwaine's eyes sparked with interest.

So it was that everyone told their own Christmas tale. It was either their funniest, weirdest or sweetest. As the others recounted their stories, Merlin kept toying with his food, his mouth shut. Morgana noticed however and intervened. “Merlin, you haven't shared.”

Merlin startled. Contemplating his portion of carrots had been mesmerising. Yeah, not really. He had been thinking about Arthur. He guessed he wouldn't stop the trend if he shared his best Christmas memory. But he had to try. “Well, mine would be last Christmas,” he said, his voice just a little bit choked. 

“What no tale of childhood redeemed?” Gwaine joked.

“Nah.” Merlin's chin trembled then firmed. “Mine's recent. See, last year I was working over Christmas.” He decided to specify for Gwaine's benefit. “I work at a big cat sanctuary and, well, I was looking after tigers and lions. You need someone to feed them, even at Christmas time, or they'll starve and that was my turn.” As he remembered, he got teary-eyed. “Arthur knew about that and he drove over and spent the night with me. I fed the animals and we had ourselves instant noodles and the mince pies he'd bought at the shop.” Merlin's voice cracked right then. “We had fairy lights in the office and we played carols off my phone even if Arthur doesn't really like carols. That, that was my best Christmas.”

Out of the shadows a figure stepped out. To all intents and purposes it was Santa Claus. The figure had a white beard, a red hat lined with white fur, a black belt cinching an all red outfit. But Merlin would recognise those eyes everywhere. It wasn't just the colour – though the colour was arresting – but the honest light in them. They were perfect for Santa, but it was Arthur through and through.

Santa-Arthur stepped forwards, his black boots shining in candlelight.

Leon said, “He's forgotten his part. He should say 'Ho, Ho, Ho’.”

Santa-Arthur came to stand in front of Merlin, the table between them. He rummaged in his sack and found a red envelope with a little red pull bow where the postmark should be. Santa Arthur said nothing, no jolly address, no well wishes for the season. He didn't even wish Merlin a Merry Christmas. He only looked at him as if Merlin was the only person left on the planet, his gaze piercing Merlin to the very core of his being. 

Somehow, Merlin knew what he had to do, what that gaze was spurring him to. So he opened the envelope and fished out a printed sheet. It was an open plane ticket with Florida for a destination, where a big cat sanctuary had opened that Merlin wanted to visit. It had been his dearest wish for quite some time, but he hadn't been able to afford it. “I-- I don't know what to say.” Merlin knew now that that had been Arthur's idea, that he'd given him his heart's desire to make Merlinhappy. That broke his heart twice over. Though Merlin had angered him, had overstepped, Arthur still wanted to give him his gift. “Thank you.”

“It's what you wanted, wasn't it?”

“I never asked.” Merlin swallowed hard and swiped his fingers under his eyes to catch at any renegade tears. “How did you know?”

“It wasn't hard to guess now, was it, Merlin?” Arthur was trying to go for his usual unflappable tone, but his voice was as broken and rough as Merlin's. “You're always on your laptop browsing their website, or exchanging emails with their employees.”

Merlin wanted to laugh or maybe cry. He thought he needed to do both. Arthur might be over their friendship, he may be angry at Merlin for kissing him, but he was still so kind as to acknowledge their past, to wish to still give him a present that would warm Merlin's heart through and through. 

Was there anything that Merlin could do to make amends? Perhaps not. He'd crossed a boundary he shouldn't have. He'd gone and forfeited years of excellent friendship for the impulse of a moment. Well, maybe he was lying to himself, a little. He'd wanted to kiss Arthur for a long, long time. His occasional fantasies had meant more than he realised and he'd been kidding himself into thinking his feelings for Arthur were platonic. While there was a lot in it that could be called friendship, it wasn't the whole of it. “Yeah, yeah I am. I didn't think you'd noticed.”

“I did.” Arthur's eyes weren't sparkling now. He appeared and sounded like a very serious Santa. “I did, Merlin.”

Merlin felt a tear go down his face and settle on his upper lip. He sucked it in. “I'm sorry.”

Arthur's eyebrows climbed in the direction of his furry hat. “What for?”

Merlin feared the ground would open up beneath him and swallow him whole. He was sitting, but all the same, his legs didn't feel steady at all. What was he about to say? Should he say it? He didn't allow himself to think at all or he wouldn't do this. “Yesterday night.” Merlin said the words as low as he could, so the others couldn't hear. “The, er, kiss.”

Arthur's mouth slowly dropped open. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I--”

“Merlin, I...”

Whatever Arthur said was drowned out by the bagpipe players that had got onto the stage behind them. They were playing Little Drummer Boy and they were quite good at it except that now wasn't the time. Arthur seemed to have thought the same thing, for he said, “Let's go somewhere else.”

He gave the sack with the presents to Gwen, saying, “Play Santa, Gwen. You're a better gift giver than me anyway.”

Having said this, Arthur gestured for Merlin to follow him. He might have taken him to the lobby or upstairs to their room, but instead he chose to step outside instead, with snow coating the ground and front entrance and clinging to windscreens. At least it wasn't snowing again, though the air was certainly laden with chill. In normal circumstances, Merlin would have protested, as hypothermia here was a serious threat. But after a disappearing act that had lasted all day, Arthur seemed willing to talk. Merlin would do anything to repair their friendship.

“Arthur, I--”

“Merlin, I--”

Merlin almost wanted to laugh. Well, he would have if his heart wasn't being squeezed every which way. “Let me speak.” He put his hands up to stop Arthur from adding anything. That seemed like the only way he could explain himself. “I'm sorry I kissed you.” Cracks showed in Arthur's composure. It was almost as if he too was trying not to cry. “To be honest though, I'm not entirely sorry I did.”

Arthur sucked in a breath. 

“I mean I'm sorry, I did something you didn't want me to, I don't even know how to forgive myself.” Merlin's words were coming out too fast and too crowded. He just hoped Arthur would understand, see through the muddle and into his heart. “But I'll always cherish that kiss because...”

Arthur's eyes had got wide and shiny. “You can't leave someone hanging like that, Merlin. Because?”

Merlin realised that he had to go all out. He couldn't withhold information while making a clean breast of it all. “Because you're dear to me.” But even that didn't frankly cut it. He thought he had come to terms with his real feelings and while he wanted to keep Arthur's friendship he couldn't do it by being wholly dishonest. “Very much so. In fact, I love everything about you. I love you, Arthur.”

Arthur swallowed back what sounded like a sob. “You didn't do anything I didn't want you to.”

Merlin titled his head. He'd have asked a question, but he hadn't the wherewithal to vocalise. 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, as though enormously weary, “how could you misunderstand me so?”

Merlin shook his head in confusion. “Misunderstand what ,exactly?”

Arthur placed two fingers on his forehead. “You have no fault in this. I kissed you, remember?”

Oh no. Arthur was so noble and loyal he was going to take full responsibility for Merlin's misconstruing of his actions. “I kissed back.”

Arthur put up both hands to stop him talking. “I mean to say I kissed you because the moment seemed perfect.” When Merlin tried to put a word in, Arthur stopped him by squeezing his arm. “Because I feel for you, Merlin.” He took a big breath and when he had his shoulders drooped. “There.”

Was Merlin right in getting more and more confused? It seemed to him Arthur was implying he shared Merlin's feelings. But he hadn't been exactly direct. Or was Merlin putting the wrong spin on his words? He was done with uncertainty. “Okay, does that mean that you love me, too?”

“Yes!” Arthur threw his arms up. “Yes, that's exactly what I mean.”

“So you're not angry with me for kissing you back!”

“No!” Arthur almost shouted that. “I feared I had taken advantage of you, so I stopped!”

Merlin's voice got higher too. “No, you numbskull! I kissed you back. That was a clue, wasn't it?”

Arthur wagged his head in denial, then burst out laughing. “So I was an idiot for thinking I'd somehow I'd forced your hand?”

“Yes, Arthur.” Merlin nodded vigorously, his eyes wet with tears. “You were an idiot because I love you.”

Arthur's eyes widened with joy and his lips stretched outwards in a smile Merlin had never seen the like of. “In which case,” he said, taking Merlin's hands in his and meshing their fingers, “I need to make amends.”

“How?” Merlin curled an eyebrow.

“By kissing you squarely and properly.”

Arthur leant in and Merlin's heart skipped a beat, but the awaited kiss didn't come because it started snowing and they both shivered. 

“Maybe,” Arthur said, looking up at the dark Christmas sky, “we should move this inside.”

“Definitely.” Merlin turned around towards the lobby entrance, but then thought over his action and pivoted back, placing an ill-centred kiss on Arthur's lips. “But I had to do this first.”

Arthur grinned and then they stormed into the lobby and dashed upstairs, not letting go one of the other.

**** 

Their room was warm but they hardly noticed. As soon as they tumbled in, Aithusa meowed, but they scarcely heard her. They looked in each other's eyes instead, their faces relaxing into a smile. Arthur took off his fake Santa beard, which made him look both solemn and funny. Then slowly but surely they stepped closer and closer till they were chest to chest, their bodies brushing. Coming together, they kissed, the motion starting slow and tentative, deepening as they went for it.

Knowing this time that Arthur was as into it as he was, Merlin licked into his mouth and tasted his tongue. Kissing him was now easy, without the second thoughts and fears that had ruled him before, without the suspicion he was ruining the best relationship of his life. It filled him with a joy he hadn't felt in a long time, not like this, heady and energising, light and bracing. Arthur's mouth moved beneath his, topped his, steady and sure, warm and soft. 

Guided by Arthur's own cues, Merlin sucked on his tongue, swallowing the sounds Arthur was starting to make. Before long he had to come up for air as well, but he certainly wasn't done touching Arthur. He actually wanted never to stop, to always have his hands on him and his lips on his.

So for a change, Merlin kissed his neck and gently nibbled on his ear . He kissed his neck and throat, where the Santa suit didn't reach, and then moved his touch upwards again, skimming his jaw, feeling the stubble on his cheeks, then grazed his lips from one side to the other with nibbles that weren't intended to prick. As he did this, their bodies aligned with one another and Arthur groaned. 

Merlin, for his part, felt pretty much like doing the same. So he did, making sure their hips connected. That fired all his nerve-endings at once, creating a thirst for more in him. They had to do something about this. Merlin loved kissing Arthur. He'd decided it was it very favourite activity. Place of honour. Number one. But they couldn't only stick to this. So he pulled Arthur backwards with him. 

Whilst they moved, Arthur set his palms on either side of Merlin's face and joined them in a renewed kiss. He traced Merlin's lips with his, as if this was their first time. He nicked with his teeth then licked with his tongue and all the while Merlin could make out the love and passion in his eyes.

Had Arthur always looked at him like that? Or was this new? If he had before, then Merlin was a prized fool. How could he have not seen that he had a place in Arthur's heart? Merlin needed to make his feelings known in return. He was aware of only one way to share that. He kissed Arthur back, at first gently nipping at his bottom lip, then harder. 

By then Arthur's tongue was in his mouth, tangling with his again. The kiss was interrupted when Merlin collided with the edge of the bed. Arthur grinned and pushed him so Merlin lay flat on its surface. Shedding his Santa boots, Arthur crawled up the bed and placed himself on top of Merlin.  
The weight of him, better than any blanket, warmed Merlin's heart and body, driving a physical thrill into him. As Arthur moved on top of him, Merlin thrust his hips upwards. Because of the wave of pleasure that overtook him, he had to grit his teeth, but he didn't give up. His body drove him onwards. Before long, they had even established a rhythm, rubbing off each other entirely clothed. 

“I can't have sex with Santa,” Merlin said, more winded than he liked to admit. 

“Were you angling for Rudolph?” Arthur cocked his head, his lips reddened by kissing, his expression as funny as they went.

Merlin laughed, a peal of it that must have been heard outside their room too. “Yeah, I'm into bestiality, especially if it involves red noses.”

“I knew it,” Arthur said, nosing at Merlin's neck. “I agree, though. We need to strip.”

Their clothes came off rather quickly, in a tangle mostly. Merlin even had time to notice there was a hole in one of his socks. But then he went back to business. He had mastered focus in the end. So he pulled Arthur's boxers down his body and tossed them away, before tugging at his own seasonal underwear till he it lay crumpled by the side of the bed. It was rather embarrassing, especially given that Arthur quirked an eyebrow at the design. But then Merlin forgot about all shame because Arthur lay naked in bed with him and he was as handsome in the buff as he was fully clothed. And who could resist that? 

Merlin certainly couldn't. He mapped Arthur's body with his hands and with his mouth, discovering places that made Arthur gasp and places that made him laugh for the tickling. He enjoyed the feel of Arthur's body next to his and revelled in the warmth they shared. 

When the time came to escalate things, Merlin put a hand between them and started rubbing them together. At the pleasure, they breathed into each other's open mouths, their skins covered with sweat. 

Jaw working, Arthur managed to say, “Really, Merlin, your teasing knows no bounds.”

“You call this teasing?” Merlin would be outraged if he wasn't so close to bliss.

But he heeded Arthur's suggestion, and worked them with more intent, using all the tricks in his arsenal. In response Arthur pushed his hips upwards and Merlin ground down on him right back.

Before long they were both panting hard, their muscles aching with the tension that came before release. 

Unable to do anything to stop his natural reactions, Merlin punched his hips into his own palm, colliding with Arthur's length as he moved. 

“Maybe we should look at this a little differently,” Arthur said, his voiced used and raw, as if he'd been drinking straight Scotches all night. His chest filled with every breath he took. His breath itself as warm as his body as it grazed Merlin's skin. “Maybe you should do me.”

Merlin didn't need to ask for any clarification. He knew what Arthur wanted of him. He only saw one little difficulty. “I wasn't expecting a hook-up.” Why should Merlin have had the forethought to pack any supplies, after all? It wasn't as though he had been headed out to a club; he had packed for a Christmas holiday in Scotland. “So I have nothing.”

“Luckily for you, Merlin--” Though Arthur tried to sound supercilious, his belaboured breath ruined the effect. “I always come prepared.”

Merlin arched both eyebrows. “Are you trying to say you expected to have a holiday fling?”

“I mean to say.” Arthur nuzzled Merlin's jaw. “That the lube and condoms are in my rucksack.”

Merlin wasn't about to tease Arthur anymore. They wanted the same thing and he meant to bring that about. Though without the press of Arthur's body the room felt cold to his naked self, he managed to cross it speedily enough. Though Aithusa had taken it for a game, playing with the zip of the rucksack's front pocket for all she was worth, Merlin managed to retrieve the required items in record time.

Then he moved up the bed and covered Arthur's body with his. He gave him a fleeting kiss before scooting back down. As Merlin worked him open, Arthur's jaw bunched and his fingers flexed and twisted the sheets. By the time Merlin was done, Arthur had pinked up, and his eyes had come to ooze love and wonder, all tender feelings that were doing Merlin in more than the sex was. Because sex could be casual – though Merlin knew it wouldn't be in this instance – but Arthur's love meant the whole world to him. 

“Are you quite done?” Arthur asked him, bringing Merlin back from his romantic reverie.

“Yeah.” Merlin's heart was beating a tattoo in his chest that was beating the bagpipes from downstairs for loudness. Anticipation made him awkward, putting a tremble in his limbs and tremulousness in his voice. 

Shoving up flush between Arthur's legs, Merlin lined himself up. “Ready?” 

Arthur sounded somewhat impatient when he said, “About time, Merlin.”

The expression in Arthur's eyes when Merlin finally got there etched itself on Merlin's heart and made him catch his breath. There was everything in it, want, need, and deep affection. Merlin didn't need anything else from this, though his body was actually requesting more. 

Arthur seemed to be of a mind with Merlin's anatomy, for he spurred him on with his foot, pushing back against Merlin. 

Instinctively, Merlin rocked forward, tightening his grip on Arthur's hips. At that, Arthur threw his head back, Adam's apple sticking out, body taut. Merlin had never seen him look so beautiful or so tempting, so he grazed his lip's along Arthur's throat, all the while moving in tandem with Arthur, Arthur responding by clenching and flexing against him, till they had built a kind of wayward rhythm for themselves, one that caused Merlin's heart to go haywire and put a burn in his skin that nothing could seemingly extinguish.

On a lapsed breath, Merlin eased back, but then Arthur took him all the way inside again, and Merlin had to close his eyes against the sight of that, Arthur stretched out beneath him, body tensed and corded with an effort to give as good as he got. 

It was beautiful; it was perfect. And for a few moments Merlin washed adrift in a world of pure bliss, his body opening him to beautiful stimuli that both lulled him and energised him. It was as though he could feel Arthur to the marrow, as if he now had a sense of him he would never forget.

But though Merlin wished this could go on forever, it couldn't last long. Merlin was too tightly wound for that and, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't retreat from the brink. His mind was too full of Arthur and Merlin's love for him and his body was too tuned in to every move of Arthur's for him to be able to stave off the inevitable. 

He shuddered forward and flush against Arthur, held them there for one frantic moment, then began to pull back out as slowly as he could make it, evoking a hiss of pleasure from Arthur, and a bit back moan from himself. But then his pace increased against his own wishes, his body taking the reins against his mind. Harder thrusts followed the modulated ones from before. 

Intuiting this, Arthur reached out to grab a hold of himself. He stroked himself in a decadent but fast fashion, his face collecting heat, until he let go and came in a spurt that Merlin could feel as it trickled hot then cold between their bodies.

Purely instinctively Merlin's body jerked forward, and then he knew he was coming too, so he pistoned forwards with little regard for style or points. What was that in the face of the pervasive bliss of this? They'd have time to perfect this later, hopefully. Just before he reached his peak though, Merlin brought his lips down on Arthur's in a crushing kiss that was ill-centred and awkward but at the same time the best Merlin had ever had. 

In response to it Arthur strived forward, neck stretched to meet him in the middle, lips parted and waiting for Merlin so that he could slide his tongue inside for one last effort at kissing that stopped when Merlin spasmed in release.

By then they were both panting, Arthur's face on the pillow, Merlin's head bowed. In spite of the heat, they cooled down fast so they burrowed under the blanket, and nuzzled each other, too lazy and sleepy with sex to have more than a distracted go at cleaning each other up. 

The sounds of the party downstairs dying down, they fell asleep, bodies almost entwined, sharing the same pillow. 

It was some hours later when the hush of night had fallen upon the inn that Merlin woke. It might have been Aithusa inspecting their room or the sounds of footsteps coming from the outside stairway, either way something had roused Merlin.

Though his eyebrows twitched at the disturbance, Arthur was still asleep, snoring softly. 

So as not to wake him, Merlin slipped out of bed as noiselessly as he could, tiptoeing across the room till he found a warm pair of slippers and plush robe to wear. So covered, he paced towards the window. 

The moon shone bright and the heights of the Cairngorms were sheathed in white, just as all the vista was, with the lights from the inn dimmed by those of nature. It was so picture perfect Merlin couldn't stop looking up at the twinkling night sky. 

He was so taken up by the beauty of the Christmas scenery that he was startled by Arthur's wrapping his arms around him and placing a kiss on the side of his neck. 

“What are you looking at?” Arthur's lips were still on Merlin's skin. “Why are you not in bed with me?”

“Because--” Merlin pointed outside. “It's like a Christmas card.”

“Well, there's snow and crags and all that,” Arthur said, his naked body firm and solid behind Merlin. “But how can that compete with--” He cocked his head at the bed.

Arthur was right. Merlin loved Christmas and scenic scenes, but spending time with Arthur was better than any room with a view. He was about to turn around and pad back to bed, when Aithusa jumped on the sill, focusing Merlin's attention back on the window.

What he saw took his breath. An object was crossing the night sky, spreading an aurora Borealis of colour across it. As the object lowered itself, Merlin could almost make it out. It looked like one of the sleighs they had ridden in their outing, but it wasn't led by dogs, rather by... Reindeer. And was the man sitting in the vehicle rather paunchy and red-clothed? When the sleigh planed downwards towards the Cairngorms villages Merlin thought he detected a white beard and jolly face. 

It was only for an instant, as the object he had sighted turned into just a bright pinprick, but it had been enough to bolster all his childhood imaginings and make happiness spread inside him. 

Right at that moment, Arthur said, “Merry Christmas, Merlin.”

And Merlin hugged Arthur and kissed him loudly. “Merry Christmas, Arthur.”

 

The End.


End file.
